


woolen hearts

by pentipus



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Knitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentipus/pseuds/pentipus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Carmilla was loved, she knew as much, and here was Laura’s heart, pressed red and warm against her own.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	woolen hearts

**Author's Note:**

> For my bff who specifically says she doesn't like fluff. So I wrote her some fluff.

Laura had been at it for four days straight, fingers carefully pressing the red wool between the wooden needles she’d found in a shoebox under one of the beds upstairs. Carmilla had watched her cast-on six times before Laura managed to correctly loop the wool like a spider’s web between her fingers, cramming a full forty-five stitches onto the needle before she began knitting in earnest; enough for whatever Laura had planned, Carmilla assumed.

Laura’s creation grew like a sprouting weed, a red woollen tongue that draped down between Laura’s legs like spilled insides, soft and inviting but without the coppery smell of clotting blood. Carmilla thought that it was a particularly good look for her, but she refrained from saying as much. Instead she sat across the room and peeked at Laura’s progress from behind her Robert Lowell anthology; a tut meant a dropped stitch, a huff meant a painstaking repair.

“Why don’t you just leave the holes?” Carmilla commented on the fourth day, watching Laura with raised eyebrows as she scowled down at her knitting needles.

“Be. Cause.” Laura let out a frustrated breath and said no more.

On the seventh day Laura cast-off, triumphant.

“There,” she said, smiling.

Carmilla twisted in her chair, her legs crossed over the worn leather arm. “Fantastic,” she said as she watched Laura stand and hold up her length of knitting, a slightly uneven tangle of mismatched stitches that was almost as tall as Laura herself. “It’s a bookmark, right?”

Laura narrowed her eyes and edged forwards. “Yes, it’s a bookmark,” she said sarcastically, “for your Lowell.”

“My Lowell thanks you.” Carmilla twisted as far as she could, trying to keep Laura in her sights as she walked behind the chair Carmilla was lounging in.

“It’s not a bookmark, obviously,” Laura said, leaning down over Carmilla’s shoulder and carefully pooling the red woollen mass on her chest. “But it is a gift.” Laura kissed Carmilla’s crown, tickling the hair that swirled there. “So be nice, alright?”

“It’s impossible,” Carmilla said, sinking her hands into the scratchy wool like a cat making good a perch.

“You can wear it in the winter,” Laura said cheerfully as she stood up, a hand briefly on Carmilla’s shoulder. “For when you get cold.”

Carmilla didn’t turn around at the sound of Laura’s footsteps leaving the room, instead she called out, “I don’t get cold.”

She pressed the wool again and smiled at the thought of all of Laura’s dropped stitches, her little mistakes and her little victories. She brought the wool up to her face and pressed her chin into the warm weight of Laura’s toil, the softness of her labour.

Carmilla was loved, she knew as much, and here was Laura’s heart, pressed red and warm against her own.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw red wool in one of the production photos of series 3 and I said to myself, I just gotta.


End file.
